


Costume Party

by SwiftEmera



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Restraints, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6011299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/pseuds/SwiftEmera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has never actually seen Indiana Jones, so when Thea presents the costume to him, he rolls his eyes and, with a sigh and agrees to go along with it, anyway. It works out pretty well for both him and Barry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Costume Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordswehavesaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/gifts), [colorofmymind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorofmymind/gifts), [starrxlorrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrxlorrd/gifts).



> Prompt from wordswehavesaid. I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, EM <333

Oliver has never actually _seen_ Indiana Jones, so when Thea presents the costume to him, he rolls his eyes and, with a sigh and agrees to go along with it, anyway – purely because he doesn't have the energy or the willpower to come up with anything else, and the party was kind of a last minute arrangement. If nothing else, at least Barry will appreciate it. He knows how much the dork loves those damn movies.

Of course, he doesn't quite realise how much, until he shows up at the party, and his boyfriend's jaw practically hits the floor at the sight of him. He watches as green eyes trail over his entire body, a red tinge forming over Barry's face as he licks his lips, white knuckling the doorframe as if his knees might cave and knock him over at any moment.

“See something you like?” He quips with an easy grin, and Barry swallows thickly.

One quick glance down at Barry's groin confirms two things. One, Barry Allen clearly has the hots for the Indiana Jones look. Two, they're not going to be spending a lot of time in the living room with the rest of the party-goers. Wouldn't be right to leave Barry like that for the rest of the night, would it?

“Are you going to let me in, or are you just going to stare?” Oliver huffs, sly smile forming on his lips as Barry's eyes stare at the bullwhip in his hand hungrily.

 

***

 

“So, what are you, anyway?” Oliver asks Barry once they're inside – to which his boyfriend tilts his head adorably, eyebrows drawing together.

“Are you kidding?” Barry asks.

His eyes skim over Barry's outfit. He's decked in a pinstriped suit, converse shoes, black framed glasses and his hair is sticking out adorably at all angles. He's pretty sure he at least recognises the character, but it's not like he's been keeping up with TV shows and movies since he returned from the island.

“I'm the Tenth Doctor,” Barry tells him, rolling his eyes as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Come again?”

“The tenth- oh, never mind,” he groans, and Oliver sends a glare to Cisco, who is standing watching them and snickering in the background.

 

***

 

As suspected, they’re not downstairs for long. 

As soon as Oliver's back hits the mattress, Barry is straddling him, erection grinding down on his own through the thin material of their costumes, and Oliver tightens his grip on Barry's thighs with a groan.

Hands trail through his hair as Barry reaches forward, desperately chasing Oliver's lips with his own, and Oliver opens his mouth in easy compliance, and _god_ , Barry's so hot like this – desperate, needy, waiting for Oliver to consume him through touch.

Oliver bucks up, and Barry trembles above him, burying his face into the curve of Oliver's neck with a desperate whine. “Oliver, fuck, please, I- I need-”

What Barry needs, Oliver doesn't quite have the patience to find out – though he's pretty sure he has a good idea. He quickly manoeuvres them so that Barry is flat on the mattress, spread out underneath Oliver, and Oliver grins down on him, pinning Barry by the wrists above his head.

“Somebody's all hot and bothered,” Oliver chuckles, hot breath ghosting against Barry's neck. “Something tells me that you like those Indiana Jones movies a little more than you let on.”

Barry stares up at him, eyes glazed and completely flushed, and Oliver drinks in the delicious sight. “Or is it Indy that you like?”

“I just-” Barry bites down on his lower lip, avoiding Oliver's gaze. “-h-he was my first crush.” The last sentence is said so quiet – so timid – that if it weren't for the deep scarlet shade of Barry's cheeks, Oliver would doubt that it had even been said at all.

And, okay – _this_ he could certainly use to his advantage.

Honestly, he might need to actually watch those movies at some point, if only to get the characterisation down. It's not like he and Barry are strangers to role playing, after all. Not that they do it a _lot_ , but when the mood strikes them while they're getting hot and heavy, sometimes they just slip into different roles.

For now, though, he'll have to make do with what he's got – which consists of an outfit, and a-

 _Oh_.

A smirk tugs the corners of Oliver's lips as he pictures the scene – Barry flat on his back, wrists pinned to the horizontal bars of the headboard by the bullwhip. He's not entirely sure how well it would hold – but he'd learned a thing or two about different types of knots in his time on the island. Who knew it'd ever come in handy in the bedroom?

He presses over Barry, grinding down on him, which sends shockwaves through his entire system. Barry looks delicious like this – hair all over the place, kiss-swollen lips and skin breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat as Oliver continues to press into him, sucking gentle marks into the flesh of his neck as he goes. “Do you want to get creative?”

Barry gazes up at him, eyes a little glazed over, pupils dilated, but he swallows and nods, breath coming out in short pants as Oliver grins at him. His hands close around the bullwhip, rested on the mattress beside them, and Barry's eyes widen, mouth falling open ever-so-slightly.

Leaning down, Oliver draws his mouth close to Barry's ear - “I'm going to tie you up, and I'm going to have my way with you. Sound good?”

Barry just lets out a groan, head falling back into the pillow. “Y-yes,” he manages to croak out. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Oliver whispers, and the small squeak that falls from Barry's lips is equal parts hot and adorable.

He manages to peel himself from the warmth of Barry's body, if only to let the younger man shuffle so that he's gripping on to the bars of the headboard, and Oliver lets out a breathy chuckle at the sight. “If I knew how excited you'd get over a costume, I'd have bought it a long time ago.”

Barry ducks his head, a shy smile playing on his lips, and Oliver smirks at the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It's not a rental, right?”

“Nope,” Oliver replied with a smirk, “We can keep it.”

With that, Oliver lifts the bullwhip, winding it around Barry's wrists and tightening it into a knot on the bar he's grasping onto, making sure to tie tight enough that it won't come apart, but not so tight as to hurt his boyfriend.

Drawing back, he licks over his lips, taking in the delicious view before him. Barry writhing on the bed, panting desperately – and they've barely even started. “You look amazing like this, Barr,” Oliver tells him as he crawls back over him, voice low and sultry. “But you're a little overdressed for the occasion, I think.”

“Y-yes,” Barry whines, “Yes, Dr. Queen.”

Oliver lets out a breathy chuckle, working on Barry's zipper until it comes loose, the younger man canting his hips so that Oliver can pull off his pants and underwear in one swift motion. He moves up his body to pop the buttons of Barry's shirt, and Barry just watches him hungrily, tongue darting over his lips as the shirt comes loose, Oliver spreading it so that his chest is exposed, save for the tie that's still draped over him. “I'm starting to see the appeal to this costume thing after all.”

He wastes no time in making use of the newly exposed flesh before him, trailing hot, wet open-mouthed kisses over Barry's torso – his abs, his stomach, and he lingers on his hips, Barry letting out stuttered gasps and bucking up into the touch, but Oliver presses him back down, looking up at his boyfriend with a satisfied smile. “Patience, baby. Don't worry, we've got all night.”

When he goes to remove his own clothes, though, Barry reaches out to stop him, but gets tugged back by the whip. “Leave it on?”

A smirk curves on Oliver’s lips at that, and he crawls back over Barry, sucking a small, red mark into his thigh, skimming the younger’s stomach with his fingers, and palming over Barry’s erection, making the other man let out a loud groan. Barry’s rock solid and warm beneath his hand, and it’s a testament to just how wild the costume has driven him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” he tells his boyfriend with an awed whisper, eyes trailing up to Barry’s face. His eyes are hooded, lips are parted, and his skin is kissed with a red blush from his chest to his cheeks. “So beautiful.”

Barry bucks up into his touch, lost for words, and Oliver chuckles darkly. “Okay, I get the hint.”

Without further delay, Oliver trails a wet strip up Barry’s shaft with his tongue, and Barry lets out a stuttered gasp, headboard rattling as he makes a desperate move to reach out for Oliver, but completely restrained by the whip. And, fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Then again, this is Barry. He makes pretty much everything hot without meaning to.

After a little bit more teasing with his tongue, he finally takes Barry’s length into his mouth, and is awarded with a piercing moan that sounds like it came straight from Barry’s throat, which makes his chest warm with pride. He swirls his tongue around the head before taking it down fully, enveloping the gorgeous man with his wet warmth.

To say that the noises Barry makes during sex are hot is an understatement. He’s always so desperate, so wanton, and it makes such a difference from the dorky innocent CSI assistant that everyone believes him to be. When Oliver bobs his head, pressing his tongue down on the flesh in just the right way, Barry lets out delicious pants and gasps and moans that make Oliver’s dick twitch with need.

And, okay, he needs to be inside Barry like yesterday.

Drawing up slowly, Barry lets out a whine as Oliver’s mouth leaves his cock, but Oliver just smirks at him. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m not done with you.”

When Oliver digs into his pocket for the lube and condom that he’d stashed there earlier, Barry’s eyebrows raise on his forehead a little, and his lips twitch into an amused smirk. “You came expecting to get laid. I have half a mind to just leave you hanging.”

Oliver chuckles darkly, crawling back over Barry, who parts his legs willingly to give the older man space. “Yeah? You sure about that, Barr?”

Barry’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly, green eyes wide with desire and pupils blown. “Okay, maybe not… now. But some other time,” he says weakly.

“Mm, I’ll take your word for it,” Oliver murmurs against the skin of his throat, teeth scraping against the flesh lightly before he moves back down, propping Barry’s legs up and placing a lubed finger at his hole, teasing. “I mean, I could always leave you tied up here. Are you sure you want to make threats like that?”

Barry opens his mouth to respond, but is instantly cut off when Oliver breaches him, and his words are replaced with a filthy groan.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how hot you are like this, Barr,” Oliver breathes, eyes trailing over the lines of Barry’s body – at the way that his chest rises and falls with each desperate pant, at the way that the muscles in his stomach contract whenever he adds a finger, at the way that he rolls his head back on the pillow in ecstasy as he hits that bundle of nerves.

Then finally, when Oliver crawls over him once more, pants unbuttoned and condom rolled over his cock, all lubed up, and Barry wraps his legs around his waist as he presses against his hole, he observes the way that the green eyes are locked on his own with the ultimate display of love and trust written inside them, and fuck, that just leaves him completely breathless.

At Barry’s nod to signal that he’s ready, Oliver takes his time in sinking into the delicious tight heat, body singing out in pleasure at the feeling of Barry surrounding him and the sound of Barry’s sucked-in breath.

“You okay, baby?” he asks once he’s fully sheathed, carding his hands through the other’s hair. Barry’s arms twitch as though to reach out to him, to touch him, but the restraint of the bullwhip stops him, and Oliver lets out an amused huff.

“I’m good,” Barry replies with a soft whine. “Oliver, please-”

“Please what?” Oliver teases, bumping his nose with Barry’s, but he’s all talk. Even just resting inside the younger man is driving him crazy – he wants to move.

“Please- fuck me,” Barry replies, clenching down on his cock impatiently.

“Fuck,” Oliver groans, no longer able to resist. With slow, measured strokes, Oliver grips onto Barry’s hip with one hand and props himself up on the mattress with the other, and Barry’s heels dig into his back as he tightens his legs around him, unable to make any other movements.

The room is filled with their sounds, and thank Christ the party is so loud downstairs, because they’re barely holding back. The bed creaks below them as Oliver increases in speed, Barry’s begging and moaning spurring him on, and their hitching breath paired with sloppy kisses and desperate sobs as they both approach their climax.

Barry is the first to hit his peak, crying out loud with elation as he spills over his stomach between them and tightens around Oliver, causing the sparks in the older man’s body to flare up into a storm as the muscles in his entire body tighten, his release filling the condom with a loud groan.

His forehead against Barry’s, both men take a few seconds to get their breath back, Barry’s breath hot on his lips as he chases it for a soft kiss, before rolling himself off and lazily reaching up to untie his boyfriend, who immediately rolls into him and wraps his arms around his waist, head lulling against his shoulder. 

“You’re wearing that costume every night.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes with a huff. “Sometimes I do enjoy actually being naked with you, Barry.”

“Fine,” Barry concedes, voice quiet from fatigue. “But you’re wearing it again at some point. Soon.” 

“Fine.”

The party goes on downstairs, but they don’t bother to go back down, content in letting themselves just fall asleep in each other’s arms once they’ve managed to move to the bathroom to clean themselves. No one dares to ask where they’d disappeared to when they manage to drag themselves downstairs the following morning in particularly bright moods.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me [here](http://smittenvigilantes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
